


Cold Killer and the Rageful.

by his tongue and liver (doubleinfinity)



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Anger Management, Attempted Murder, Established Relationship, Fighting Kink, Fist Fights, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, violence turns him on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubleinfinity/pseuds/his%20tongue%20and%20liver
Summary: Chris doesn't always come home right after work.Curious, Eddie walks in on a scene that has him swallowing hard on his own impulses.





	Cold Killer and the Rageful.

o1/o1. blood or gold.

Afterhours, the office is suspended in an odd, shadowy silence. The energies of Chris’ coworkers seem to linger throughout the building even while the chairs at their stations remain empty. Kendricks, who was supposed to close up and set the alarm after everyone went home (happy to do it, at least before he found the shape waiting for him in the shadows), lets out a weak cry as Chris winds up once again and punches him in the face.

This time he falls flat onto the break room floor, nose smashing against at the tile.

Again, Chris forces him to his feet by twisting two hands around the fabric of his shirt. He strikes him with a heaving grunt, all knuckles and no mercy. The man whines and crashes back to the ground, wrapping his arms around himself. He’s stopped trying to talk sense into Walker. He’s stopped using his voice to brace loudly for the next assault.

Chris’ shoulders dip and he leans forward, grabbing his coworker by the back and jerking him up again. Something stays his fist mid-motion. A shadow has fallen over the room, maybe, or a new energy has been introduced. He pauses, too scared to look over his shoulder.

“Is this where you are when you come home late from work?”

The voice appears behind him, steady and removed. Chris’ hand, pulled back into a fist and ready to launch, is held frozen mid-air.

“Most men are out having affairs with their secretaries.” Eddie humms, considering. He cocks his head, eyes trailing over the violence. “Unless that’s what this is,” he adds with a curious eyebrow.

Chris breathes out, not turning to face the older.

“Go home, Gluskin,” he instructs, voice labored from the absolute rage that it is tasked with carrying. His fist shakes in the air, desperate to get at least ten teeth knocked out of this guy.

Eddie steps forward, moving in front of Chris and slapping his wrist with the precision of a heart surgeon. Chris’ arm loses its grip on the man because of it, sending Kendricks skidding to the floor. The male lets out a broken gasp and curls into himself, hiding beneath his own arms.

“Well, can you tell me what he did, at least?” Eddie asks quietly, glancing into Chris’ face. He could spend years parsing through that delicious and complicated mess of eye-clouding fury. He wants to get started.

For a second, Chris’ vision seems to snap back. He regains awareness.

“He fucking-” he starts, centering on Eddie. “He’s been fucking channeling out sensitive information. Over _personal emails_. Not even a Snowden, just using shit as anecdotes.”

“Chris,” Eddie reasons, “Darling. You have to stop. It doesn’t matter this much.”

A sense of graveness seems to fall over Chris’ face.

“You don’t understand,” he whispers, voice snarling. “I am so fucking _angry_. I’m so angry at these shitheads who don’t give a fuck about anyone but themselves. I’m so angry at my fucking commander who sent me into that town _with instructions_ to kill them all or he’d have _me_ killed. And now I’m in this cozy desk job and _still_ there are people like this. Fucking shitbrains. It’s too much Eddie, it’s too fucking much. I have to channel it into something.”

Eddie glances from his heaving lover to Chris’ victim, his face bloody and bruised, his eyes swelling shut, curled up like a turtle on the break room floor.

“You have to stop,” he says with a swipe to Chris’ face, pawing his cheek. “I feel the same way you do. But you have to realize what will happen once the rage is gone.”

Chris’ body leaps at his touch, darting a hand forward to grab his wrist. “Gluskin, _please_.”

“Be careful asking for my okay, darling,” he warns, his eyes dark and cold and loving. “You will find that I’m apt to give it to you.”

All of Eddie’s trauma sits right at the bottom layer of his skin, just barely permeating through the surface. He feels it when he walks around town, when he goes to work and comes home at night: it’s like a secret that fills him, and somehow it feels better to have it all sloshing around in plain sight.

Chris wears his trauma like a shell around him. When the burner gets turned on and his anger level is yanked up too high, it all fucking cracks off him. It leaves him a raw and angry brawler.

With the taste and desire for beauty, Eddie places a hand against Chris’ forearm. It’s burning hot.

“People like us have to fuck and fight to get through it,” he murmurs. “It’s okay, Walker. You’ll feel better later on. I just don’t want you to be empty when that happens.”

Chris’ face takes on a pained expression. He breaks away from Eddie, resigned to him.

Eddie feels the urge to kill twitch between his fingers, igniting them.

The smell of blood, the look of fear on a motherfucker’s face… yeah, he shouldn’t be here right now.

He turns.

He wants to watch Chris rage this man to a pulp, put him in the grinder of his talons. He wants it so bad that his chest aches with loss when he forces his eyes off the scene.

“Just report him next time,” he says with hunger broken open and spilling all over his chest like a burst artery, dripping red, like his own mouth drooling saliva as he lusts over the idea of Chris just absolutely fucking slaughtering this nameless man, like the cum he will have milked into his mouth tonight like honey from his mother’s tit.

“And then come home so I can fuck you.” He taunts himself with one last glance, holding himself steady. "I have to cope too, Chris. Some of us fuck more than we fight."


End file.
